


The Perks of Being Earnest

by black_dipped_roses



Category: The Perks of Being a Wallflower - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, M/M, What if?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_dipped_roses/pseuds/black_dipped_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Brad had stood up for Patrick? What if happy endings actually did exist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perks of Being Earnest

This shitty day started out like every other shitty day.

Except for the part where it was absolutely nothing like every other day.

"Get out!" Brad yelled while his father started to beat him harder into the dirty floor of the basement.

Patrick eventually did but only after he realized he was only making it worse.

They hadn't talked yet.

And really Patrick wasn't sure they ever would.

Patrick's guess was that Brad would probably act like he was nothing.

Just like everyone else.

But if Brad didn't, Patrick couldn't imagine Brad ever speaking of what happened that night with him.

The part that scared Patrick the most was that he knew which one he would prefer to take place.

And he knew which one would break him.

He knew this limbo-esque purgatory of secrecy they were living in could never work.

One of them would snap, and it would all come crashing down.

Patrick even knew he would be the one to snap.

It would be so much easier to just end it here, to leave it at this and never return.

Patrick didn't want that.

Patrick wanted Brad.

He wanted Brad anyway he could get him, and if that meant Brad never speaking of what happened that night, then he could do without the talk.

If Brad treats him like shit, like everyone else, Patrick knows he'll be broken inside.

Patrick knew what this was- this all encompassing need to just exist with someone else.

Patrick refused to be that cliché.

Absolutely.

Positively.

Refused.

But he worries.

Because he's met people that have gone through this- the loss of someone you . . .-and some of them never move on.

Never recover.

Some of them never want to.

He hopes, futilely, that he's not one of them.

So when he was walking through the lunch room, he really couldn't be bothered to watch for douchebags.

He wished he hadn't been so deep in thought when his shoulder groaned in pain at a move to stand up.

"Oops, sorry Nothing," The shithead laughed.

This is where what Patrick thought to be true turned out to be completely wrong.

Because, while Patrick could dream and wish for his knight in shining armor, he was a realist and a cynic at heart.

He never, for even a moment, expected Brad to stand up and punch his shithead minion in the face.

"What the fuck Brad?" The shithead held his bleeding nose and glared at Brad.

"Don't fucking touch him," Brad practically growled.

By then Patrick had stood up with wide eyes, looking at Brad like he had spontaneously grown two heads and started speaking in ancient tongues.

"Dude, what the fuck?" The other douchebag at the table stood up and glared at Brad, "Why are you defending the wimpy fag-"

The other douche didn't even finish his sentence before Brad knocked him to the ground with a single punch.

"If you ever call him that fucking slur again I'll make sure you regret being born," Brad looked furious.

Brad might act tough, but really, he was a pretty passive guy. Patrick had never seen him this angry.

"What are you his new boyfriend now?" The shithead with the bleeding nose spit, "You a fucking fag too?"

Brad kneed the guy in the stomach officially shutting him up, but then he looked at Patrick.

Patrick understood what was going on as soon as he met Brad's eyes.

Brad picked him.

Over his 'family', his 'friends' (if the first two could be called that), even his reputation.

Patrick learned he was wrong about a lot of things today, including who would crack first.

Brad looked into Patrick's eyes and realized he didn't have anything left to loose.

He told Patrick he loved him.

He decided he might as well prove it.

"Yeah, I'm a fucking fag. And if you've got a problem with it you can take it up with my fists. If you ever even look at my boyfriend the wrong way again, I'll fucking kill you," Brad walked over to Patrick and simply stood in front of him.

Patrick was still astonished by Brad's (very) public spectacle, and a little humored by his bad boy act.

But more than anything Patrick felt fucking happy.

Patrick held out his hand and after Brad took it they walked out of the school, Sam and Charlie trailing behind.

 

Once they got outside Sam and Charlie left them to talk, knowing how important what had just happened was.

"It's going to be worse now, you know," Patrick mentioned quietly, knowing that them leaving the school was just another way of delaying the inevitable but, once again, not caring.

"I've got nothing left to loose," Brad shrugged.

"What about your scholarship?" Patrick looked at Brad's face.

"I got accepted. I was about to tell you last night before . . ." Brad trailed off, but he didn't look desolate, "Well, they can't do anything now."

Patrick smiled, "I'm so happy for you. Which one did you end up picking?"

Brad knew Patrick was diverting the conversation, but he couldn't care less, "The one I didn't tell you about."

"Which one was that?" Patrick's eyebrows scrunched together.

"Washington," Brad looked to Patrick and smiled; of course Brad would be the kind of guy to apply to the same college he had as a romantic gesture.

Brad smiled the smile Patrick had only seen once before: the first time he kissed Patrick.

Patrick knew it would be hard having to deal with everything that had taken place, but he felt he could do it.

They could do it.

Together.

So he smiled at Brad and leaned in to press a kiss to his mouth.

Maybe it wasn't a shitty day after all.

And maybe he would be that cliché.

He whispered "I love you" when they broke apart for air.


End file.
